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  “I didn't bother trying to explain the truth,” he said. “I was hopelessly vain in my youth, and eager to make a name for myself. While I had done quite a bit of adventuring, most of the accounts of my life were either highly exaggerated or completely made up by myself to make myself famous. Now, I feel very guilty about that, as well as setting a bad example for Dale.”

  “Well, you were young,” Helena said, trying ineffectively to comfort him. “You shouldn't dwell unduly on the past, knowing that you can't change it. I love Dale, but he does the same thing, brooding over the evils he did long ago. I don't condone those evils, but unless there is something positive that can be done today to ameliorate them, what's the point?”

  “You say Dale was evil, and changed to good?” Noletta asked.

  “I believe he was good, drifted into evil, and then, yes, converted suddenly to good again and was appalled by his prior evil. I did not know him earlier; I met him in the last stage.”

  “Why did he convert?” Noletta asked.

  Helena tried to demur. “I'm not sure we should get into that right now. There's background that you might find tedious.”

  “He's my half-brother! We're blood related. I want to know.”

  Helena glanced at Nolan, who shrugged.

  Well, if he didn't object, why not? The girl naturally wanted to know about her notorious brother. “Benny fought him, and used his magic to defeat him, but instead of killing him, he had Virtue Vampire bite him.”

  “A vampire! Is Dale a vampire now?”

  Helena smiled. “No, dear. Vampires don't have to convert others to their kind, though they can. Virtue has different kind of bites, and this one was to suppress the evil in Dale and let his good side take over again. Since then, he's been good.”

  “Virtue Vampire,” the child repeated. “She's good?”

  “Very good, as her name implies. She's lovely and sweet and my friend. I even helped her survive when she got bad blood, because Amazon blood can counter some things like that. You would like her.”

  “A vampire! Weird!”

  “Vampires differ, as do people. Some are good, some bad. Most are in between, just doing their thing, whatever it is. Didn't your daddy tell you that?”

  “Oh, sure. But it's still weird.”

  “Life can be weird,” Helena agreed.

  “So what's Dale doing now?”

  “He is doing good, wherever he can. He hopes eventually to do more good than he did evil before.”

  “No, I mean right now.”

  “Well, I don't know. There's a war on, and we were in a party to save the country of Dan from the ravages of the Kudgels. We were on our way to try to stop the Sky Titans from being summoned by the blowing of the Gold Horn. But the Kudgels ambushed us. We managed to escape, somehow, and—well, that's when you rescued me, Noletta. Dale must have gone in another direction.”

  “Oh.” The child was plainly disappointed.

  “From what you say, I should be proud of my son now,” Nolan said.

  “As he is now,” Helena agreed.

  “But I'm not ready yet to face him.”

  Helena glanced at where his arm wasn't. “I understand.”

  “You will be moving on now.”

  “Yes. I really appreciate the way you saved me from the Kudgels, and I'm glad to have learned so much more of Dale's background, but I have to locate and rejoin my party. We still need to stop that horn from being blown. Our world is at stake.”

  “On the morrow.”

  “The morrow,” she agreed.

  “I wish you could stay,” Noletta said. “You're almost like a mother.”

  Helena was taken aback. Of course the child missed her mother! But Amazons simply were not mother material. “I…can't stay.” She was surprised by how much it pained her to say it.

  “I know.” The girl's eyes were brimming. “But maybe could you pretend tonight?”

  Pretend to be a mother? The idea seemed ludicrous. Yet, what was the alternative? “I can try. I may not be very good at it. I am a warrior woman. I don't—”

  She was interrupted as Noletta launched herself into a tearful, flying hug. What could she do except return it? Of course, Amazons didn't shed foolish tears.

  Yet in a moment she knew it was possible. It didn't even feel strange.

  Beyond Noletta, she saw Nolan tapping his pendant. Oh, he was letting her know that her mood was because of the one she was wearing for now. Desdemona's spirit was with her, and possibly influencing her reactions. There was no evil in it. The dryad, too, wanted her daughter to have some female company.

  The day passed in homelike routine. Helena held the child's hand, and read to her, and walked with her through the surrounding gardens. It was routine, yet fun. Each flower had its story, and each buzzing bee. This was Noletta's world. In the Amazon sense, it was a waste of time, but in the mother sense, it was the stuff of life itself. She knew then that once the war was over, she wanted to assume this role and have her own child. Dale would cooperate, or else.

  Nolan and Noletta prepared dinner, with Helena sort of tagging ineffectively along. She didn't know this household, and even had she known where everything was, she couldn't have been much shakes at actually making a family meal. But Noletta pretended that she was following Helena's directions, and so, amazingly, did Nolan. She realized that he, too, missed the family routine. But mainly he was doing it for his daughter. The child was happy, and her feeling radiated to animate them both.

  It might all be play acting, but it fostered an unfamiliar emotion: contentment. Helena discovered that she actually liked this pretense of being a woman instead of a warrior. A mother instead of a calculating female. When Noletta found an ant wandering on her wrist, Helena carefully took it off and put it on a shrub in the garden, unhurt. Every little thing counted. This was life, not death.

  Nolan brought her a small scroll. “You will need this.”

  Curious, she took it and unrolled it. It was a detailed map of the area. She would be able to find her way without faltering. “This is invaluable,” she said, gratified. “Thank you.”

  “You have a world to save,” he said gruffly. It seemed he simply didn't know how to accept honest appreciation.

  That night Helena slept beside Noletta, holding her hand. As she lay on her back, she felt her heart beating. No, it wasn't hers; it was from the pendant on her chest, a gentle, measured pattern. Desdemona! The spirit of the dryad must be pleased. That moved Helena in yet another way.

  In the morning she found herself better refreshed than in days. Mother sleep was good sleep.

  Then, seemingly suddenly, it was time to go. Helena donned her armor and weapons and stood somewhat awkwardly, not clear how to handle this kind of parting.

  “Kiss me goodbye,” Noletta said.

  Oh. She bent down and kissed the child on the forehead.

  “Kiss Daddy too.”

  Just as the real mother would. But this was hardly appropriate. She opened her mouth to explain, but paused as she saw Noletta's face start to cloud. Could she pretend just a little longer?

  She looked at Nolan. He spread his hand, evidently feeling similarly awkward. They were not a couple, but how could they disappoint the child?

  She stepped into him, put her arms around him, and delivered a token kiss. But the moment their lips touched there was a pulse from the pendant that sent a warm wave up through her bosom, her neck, her face, and her mouth. Then she was kissing him with phenomenal passion. She knew that his pendant was animating him similarly. Tokenism be damned; this was Desdemona borrowing her body to smooch her beloved.

  “Oh, Mommy,” Noletta said, delighted. “Naughty girl!”

  On target. But Helena couldn't stop it. She had to deliver every pulse and nuance of the dryad's kiss. It was the desperation of a woodland creature in love.

  At last, they fell apart, breathing hard. Helena knew her face was flushed. So was Nolan's.

  “That was Mona's kiss,” he said
, amazed.

  “It was,” she agreed.

  “You can't give away her pendant now,” Noletta said. “It fits you too well.”

  “But it is for Dale!” Helena said.

  “You need another.” Noletta ran to the little chest and brought out another pendant on a chain. She presented it to Helena, who tucked it into a pocket.

  Then she spun about and marched away. She had to, because if she stayed any longer she would never be able to leave.

  “When Dale needs me,” Nolan called, “I'll be there.”

  Helena nodded without turning. She could not afford to stop now.

  She passed the dead, white ash tree. It was only a tall stump surrounded by white ashes. Of course. She reached out to touch the stump, and felt a pulse from the pendant. It knew.

  Then she walked on.

  Chapter 6

  Dale

  D ale was not really thrilled to have the lustful purple-haired dwarf as his traveling companion, but any company was better than none, and he knew that Burgundy would not try to stab him in his sleep.

  However, he had one serious reservation. “When you sleep, you dream,” he said as they started walking. The dwarf's legs were short, but he could move right along.

  “I do,” Burgundy agreed.

  “Of a beautiful woman who would not touch you in real life, but in your fancy she is all yours, all night.”

  “Yes. When I run out of lovely women—I don't like to repeat myself too soon—I may dream of men. They can be interesting too.”

  “Exactly. Don't dream of me.”

  The dwarf balked. “You can't tell me who not to dream of.”

  “Yes I can.”

  “How?”

  “I can sense who you are dreaming of. If you dream of me, I will pick you up and hurl you into a tree.”

  Burgundy nodded. “Your argument is persuasive. So I'll dream of your partner, the lovely Amazon.”

  “Her neither. Do you think I'll want to clasp her, knowing she's been hopelessly soiled by your dirty dream?”

  “Well, then the vampire. I dreamed of her before, and she was most obliging. Truly lovely creature, inside and out.”

  “No. You've had her; do not smirch her again. She is far too good for you.”

  “Who, then? I need a pretty one or I don't sleep well.”

  Dale considered. “Maybe Magenta. She's lovely and experienced. She was a prostitute, and quite skilled, I understand. Now, she's a leader of the Kudgels, guiding them to stop their murderous ways and became good citizens again.”

  Burgundy nodded. “Does that name suggest her color, as mine does mine?”

  “Yes. Her body is attractive green. Her face, hands, feet, and hair are purple, and her eyes are green. That might sound ugly, but she is about as lovely a creature as you will ever encounter.”

  “She sounds ideal. I will dream of her.”

  Dale hoped that Magenta would not be wroth if she ever learned, not because of the sex, but because she had not been asked permission and got no recompense.

  They made good progress, and camped beside a tall, white ash tree. Dale had an eerie feeling of familiarity for no reason he could fathom; he had no particular association with this type of tree. Yet somehow he thought one might be in his future, in some peripheral manner. At any rate, there was no hostility, no warning of danger; it was just a passing impression.

  Burgundy was soon asleep, smiling as he addressed the green and purple lady of his dream. Again, Dale felt a tiny twinge of guilt for his part in her obscure debasement.

  As they resumed walking the next morning, it occurred to Dale that the dwarf might have some useful information. “What do you know about the sages of Knavesmare?”

  “Not a lot,” the dwarf admitted. “Just that they are the last of an ancient civilization, one of the first races created by the Protector. They were the ancestors to humans, dwarves, and halflings. Also, aside from those folk who actually live in the Northern Mountains, they alone know the safe passage to Alfen Gulfadex.”

  “The route is not safe?” Dale asked, troubled.

  “It's the holy city of the frost dwarves,” Burgundy said. “Of course it's not readily accessible to the riffraff. Even I don't know how to get there.”

  “I thought we could find it just by going north and being alert.”

  Burgundy laughed. “And you're not even a dwarf! What do you think is there for you?”

  “I think we need to get there to reunify our party,” Dale said. “We'll never find each other wandering randomly around the countryside. I knew it might be a difficult journey, but I've handled those before. What's so bad about the route?”

  “I don't know the specifics. Just that anyone who tries to go there by foot winds up either lost or dead. I didn't know you had that city in mind. You'd better pick another place.”

  Dale had not anticipated this complication. But there might be an answer. “Unless the sages help us.”

  “You want to jump from the pan to the fire? Stay away from the sages! Just go somewhere else to meet. Your friends will come to the same conclusion.”

  “No. I think Alfen Gulfadex is best.”

  “Have I mentioned lately that sometimes you make a stubborn pig seem wishy-washy?”

  “Not lately,” Dale said, smiling.

  The dwarf shrugged. “It's your funeral. And mine. It isn't as if my life is worth much anyway. I don't have an Amazon in my bed at night.”

  “Lucky for her.”

  “Well, the castle of the sages isn't far from here.”

  “You've been there?”

  “Not remotely close. I don't even know what it looks like. I just know it's in this area, and we'll know it when you see it.”

  “How will we know it?”

  “I have no idea. Only that anyone who sees it knows it.”

  That didn't seem like much help, but it would have to do. They kept walking.

  In due course, they reached the castle of the sages. And paused, impressed.

  It seemed to be fashioned of giant, rolled scrolls. They even had inked words on their surfaces. Four of them were standing endwise on the ground, each several hundred feet tall. They looked like windowless towers, except that they were clearly made of thick parchment coiled like huge manuscripts. They were huge manuscripts. A giant might pick one up and unroll it to read the text. As it was, only a few words were visible in the aperture, in some archaic script. Perhaps the words were magic, to give the parchment the strength and stability necessary to match the strength of a true tower.

  But that was just the supports. Above them hung a much larger rolled scroll, horizontal, evidently held in place by the vertical ones. Except for one detail: they did not touch. There was about fifty feet between the outer portion of it and the tops of the lesser ones.

  They stood there and gazed, half mesmerized by the sight. “You did say we'd know it when we saw it,” Dale murmured.

  “I didn't really believe it,” Burgundy said, plainly awed.

  “Where are the guards?” For there appeared to be no troops defending the castle. Even the most massive edifice was useless if not defended.

  “Maybe it's empty?” the dwarf hazarded. “They moved and left it behind?”

  They paused one breath, then both burst out laughing. No, this would not be undefended. The guards would be there, just hidden.

  “Well, let's find out.” Dale marched forward, his hands clamped on his head to show he wasn't attacking. Burgundy matched him. No one fooled with a defended castle. “Ho, Sages! We come in peace. We seek your advice.”

  There was no response. The castle did indeed seem empty.

  “I don't believe it,” Dale muttered.

  “Some kind of trick?”

  “Why would they bother? We're just passing travelers, of no importance. They don't need to trick us. There must be something we don't properly understand.”

  They studied the edge of the manuscript that opened almost like a door. Dale tr
ied to read the script on it that seemed to be a line of text extending from the ground up toward the top, but couldn't decipher its mystery.

  “That's odd,” the dwarf said.

  “The whole thing is odd!”

  “No, there's a picture painted behind the lines of text. It looks like a stairway.”

  Dale looked, and saw it. It was so realistic that he almost wanted to put his foot on the bottom step and enter the picture. Which was, of course, crazy.

  Burgundy lifted one foot high and set it on the top of the step. Then he heaved himself up and stood on it. “I don't dare look down,” he said. “Am I doing what I think I'm doing?”

  “You're standing on the bottom step of the stairway,” Dale said. “Which is crazy, because it's only painted on. You should be falling to the ground.”

  “That's what I thought.” He took a deep breath. “Are you coming?”

  This was impossible, yet there it was. Magic.

  Dale lifted a foot and placed it on the step beside the dwarf's feet. It was firm and level. He lifted his hind foot and brought it up to join the first. Now he was standing on the painted step, a foot above the ground. He wasn't in the picture, just on the stair.

  How could this be? He decided not to question it. Evidently, the sages had their magic and their ways. They didn't need armed guards.

  They mounted the circular stairway side by side, the dwarf struggling but managing. They came to a painted landing about a quarter of the way up inside the scroll tower, Dale judged. There, some unintelligible writing appeared on the parchment wall.

  Then, intelligible writing appeared on the wall before them. ANSWER, EACH: if a man spits on you, how do you respond?

  “I put my hand on my sword and ask him to explain himself,” Dale said.

  “I kick him in the shin,” Burgundy said.

  A sluice of water descended the tube. It caught the dwarf and washed him out, literally. He was carried down and to the ground, while Dale stood frozen, unable to help him, untouched by the flow. He could see below and around just far enough to know that Burgundy wasn't hurt, merely soaked and scared. Burgundy scrambled back to his feet and up the painted stairs, climbing back toward the landing.